


Substitute

by ReverseMousetrap



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Background rhack, Episode 3 to Episode 5, Impossible to Tag, Jack is a creep, M/M, Manipulation, Possession, dark themes, rating just to be safe, sorta canon compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-16
Updated: 2018-09-21
Packaged: 2019-06-28 04:13:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15699924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReverseMousetrap/pseuds/ReverseMousetrap
Summary: Rhys wakes Vaughn up in the middle of the night, but he won't say why.Good thing Vaughn trusts him completely.





	1. into this night i wander

**Author's Note:**

> I told myself I wasn't going to write this fic, but you can see how that went.
> 
> There aren't any specific warnings I can think of, just a blanket note about Jack being manipulative as usual.

“Vaughn? Can you hear me? Wake up.”

He stirred, mumbling and opening his eyes just a fraction. He could just see Rhys’ worried face looking down at him in the dark, blurry without his glasses.

“Whuh?” he slurred. “What’s wrong?”

“I need to talk to you,” said Rhys, looking to either side and shifting his weight. “Privately.”

“Mmm…give me a sec…”

Vaughn rubbed his eyes, stretching his legs before swinging them over the side of the couch. Rhys was already waiting by the door, impatiently tapping his foot. Something about him was off. He’d seen Rhys anxious a thousand times, but this was different, a kind of manic energy that stained the air around him.

They slipped outside, closing the door as silently as possible.

“Are you okay, bro?”

“We need to get further away. Don’t want anyone to hear us.”

With a yawn, he resigned himself to following Rhys into the desert until the caravan started to shrink in the distance. The night was icy, and he wrapped his arms around himself. He almost missed his stupid Hyperion vest.

“Will you at least tell me what this is about?” grumbled Vaughn. “A clue would be nice.”

Rhys scanned the area before finally nodding, satisfied.

“Do you trust me?” he said quietly, staring directly into Vaughn’s eyes.

“What? Of course I do, man. We’ve been over this.” His brow furrowed. “That’s what you dragged me out here for?”

“I’m serious. I need you to trust me.” The tip of Rhys’ tongue darted out to moisten his lips. “Because I’m working on a plan to get us out of this and back on top.”

“You’ve lost me.” Vaughn shook his head, still trying to clear the sleep from his brain. “I thought we were good. I mean, the girls don’t seem to plan on killing us anymore, and this Vault thing’s kind of cool –”

“Big picture, bro. We get the Vault, _and_ we get our lives back.”

“Um. Okay.” He shivered. “So…I get the feeling you’re going to ask me to do something really, really bad.”

Rhys shrugged. “Probably. But you’re with me all the way, right?”

He knew the answer was going to be _yes_ , every single time, but something still didn’t seem right. “You’re acting really weird. Have you been, like, drinking? Because you always get a little megalomaniacal when you drink.”

“I’m just excited, that’s all!” He was grinning. “And there’s another thing…”

They were very close together all of a sudden, Rhys looking down at him with a different kind of intensity, like he could see right through him. He felt exposed in a way that had nothing to do with the freezing air.

“Are you cold?” Vaughn asked nervously, clearing his throat. “I’d offer you my shirt, but I don’t think it’d fit…”

Rhys’ hand was under his chin, lifting his head so he couldn’t look away. “In case this all goes south…” he trailed off, a tiny sly smile flitting across his face. “You deserve this.”

And then before he could react, Rhys’ mouth was crashing against his, hot and insistent – and an old, buried ember became a spark, and then a flame. At first he went still, just letting it happen as he tried to figure out if he was dreaming again, but it was real, all his senses on fire, and he was kissing him back.

“Rhys,” he whispered before he forgot how to speak, reaching for the taller man’s shoulders to pull him closer. He’d never thought it would happen. That it _could_ happen.

The next thing Vaughn knew, he was on the ground, all the air knocked out of him as Rhys climbed on top, sliding one thigh up between his legs. He was strong, overwhelming, nothing like the coy blushing Rhys of his imagination – everything he wanted and nothing he expected – and it was making him lightheaded even as he tried to hold his own.  

Then Rhys sank his teeth into his bottom lip.

“Ugh!” Vaughn’s fingers flew to his mouth, and they came away with a bright smear of blood that gleamed in the moonlight. He glanced up at the other man, panting heavily, caught between anger and shock. “What was that for?”

Rhys started to laugh, a nasty sound that was nothing like Vaughn had ever heard from him. “What’s the matter, _bro_?” he asked sarcastically, one eyebrow raised – a look he dimly remembered from somewhere.

Not a person, but a picture.

A poster.

_No. No, no no –_

“Sweetheart. You’re killin’ me here,” he continued with an unmistakeable cruel smirk. “Smart guy like you – don’t you know that if something seems too good to be true, it probably is?”

Vaughn shoved him as hard as he could, scrambling backwards through the dirt. “Get away from me!”

Jack pouted, a mockery of Rhys’ face. “Aw, don’t be like that.” He sprang lightly to his feet, sauntering after him without a care in the world. “I saved your life.”

“What have you done to Rhys?” Vaughn demanded, though he was visibly shaking as the tall shadow fell over him.

“Nothing. Yet,” said Jack with a shrug. “Just seeing how the ride handles.”

“He’s helping you!” His fingertips found the smooth edge of a stone, and he tried to discreetly shuffle it into his palm, before the heel of a skag-skin boot came down hard on his wrist. Vaughn only just managed to bite down on the scream of pain, letting out a harsh exhale instead.

“Come on, buddy. I know you don’t wanna hurt him.”

“I’ll tell Fiona,” he gasped.

“No, you won’t. Because I just need him alive, and I’m not too picky about the condition.” Jack eased up, stepping back and offering a hand.

He ignored it, pushing himself back up slowly with his good arm and watching Jack through a mist that he wouldn’t allow to become tears. The sting in his mouth had dulled to a faint throbbing, his tongue unable to stay away from the blood. At last he spoke. “Why?” he asked quietly. “Why do…this?”

“Bored. Curious. Getting some leverage. Pick one.” He shrugged. “I actually kinda like you, kiddo. Loyal, totally ripped, surprisingly good kisser.” Jack leered at him, grabbing him by the bruised wrist and pulling him in roughly against his chest. “This could be your last chance, y’know.”

His face began to soften into a gentle smile, something approaching kindness in his eyes – though Vaughn couldn’t shake the thought that it was more like pity – and he almost looked like Rhys again. Vaughn shuddered as he leaned in, close enough that he could feel his warm breath against his lips.

“He won’t remember,” Jack murmured, running a hand up his spine. “And I won’t tell him.”

He was paralysed, half of him begging to just give in and close the gap, gripped with an aching that he knew would never go away now that he’d had a taste of what he wanted – but at the same time his mind recoiled from this _thing_ that wasn’t Rhys, that was offering up his best friend’s body as a disposable puppet for both of them to _use_.

“No,” Vaughn choked out, hating himself. “I can’t do that to him.”

Jack finally loosened his grip, stepping back and studying him. “Hmm,” was all he said, before turning on his heel and trudging back to the caravan. Vaughn followed with his hands in his pockets and his head bowed, a hundred feelings raging through him, knowing he was doing the right thing but tormented by the _what if_ with every step.

So Jack had Rhys. Completely. And he knew that meant he had Vaughn too. That made things complicated, but in a way it also made them simple.

Because from now on, the only thing that mattered was keeping Rhys safe. No matter what.


	2. the great divide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after the night before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well. Turns out people wanted a series. Maybe you should be careful what you wish for ;D
> 
> This is just a very short chapter to announce that there's more to come. And the real drama starts next time...

Vaughn wanted to keep driving forever. The caravan always tended to veer to the left, and the math of it was almost enough to keep his mind off things. It also gave him an excuse not to talk to the others. But lying awake in the dark had taken its toll, and Athena stood and glowered at him until he bowed to her almighty anti-fatigue schedule.

At least she didn’t ask questions.

He hovered behind the driver’s seat, touching his fingers to his lip for the hundredth time. For a while he’d wondered if it had been a dream, but the memory of Rhys’ tongue forcing its way into his mouth, hands tangled in his hair, burned too bright to be anything but real - and so did the horror that followed in its wake.

He made his way quietly to the couch where an animated conversation was taking place, hoping he might be able to make an excuse to squeeze in next to Fiona, but as soon as Rhys spotted him he shuffled over and patted the seat excitedly.

“It’s Vasquez story hour,” he explained. “You should tell them about that thing with your calendar.”

“Ha,” Vaughn said weakly as he dropped onto the lumpy cushion. “Yeah, sure.”

His eyes seemed to flicker as they scanned his face. “Bro, what happened to your lip?” Rhys reached out and Vaughn instinctively batted his hand away, his throat seizing up. They stared at each other, the women suddenly silent as well. Fiona’s eyes narrowed in a probing look.

“Little jumpy there,” said Rhys with an awkward chuckle. “Everything okay?”

 _You did this to me,_ Vaughn wanted to scream in his face, damn whoever or _whatever_ was listening or whether it was fair. _You don’t even know_. “Just tired,” he said eventually.

He never lied to Rhys. He hoped to hell he wouldn’t have to continue.

\---

Slumped over the steering wheel with his chin in his hand, Rhys barely acknowledged the blue flicker at the edge of his vision.

“Welcome, folks, to another _lovely_ day on this absolute dump of a planet,” said Jack, leaning against the dashboard. “To your left, you’ll see some dirt! Ahead of us, more frickin’ dirt. And in a few hours, who knows, we might catch a glimpse of –”

“Some dirt, yeah,” finished Rhys. He rolled his eyes with a wry smile. “I’m not exactly having a wild time either, you know.”

It wasn’t strictly true. The days they’d spent on the road had been long, but there was something exhilarating about the freedom, the wide open skies, the unusual company…he’d never experienced anything like it. Far from missing the shadows of brightly lit Hyperion boardrooms, Rhys was finding his long-forgotten unguarded self.

“At least you can go whack off, or somethin’.” Ignoring Rhys’ disgusted look, Jack gesticulated towards the window. “Sure there’s no Atlas crap on the way? I could go for tearing up another one of those dumps. We made a good team, huh?”

He remembered how it had felt to bend the whole facility to his will, a thousand eyes on his enemies. There was something in him that stirred at the thought. He shifted in his seat and his fingers tightened on the wheel.

“I still think there might have been a less…shoot-y way out of that,” he said cautiously.

“Look,” Jack snapped. His outline flared. “You want my help, you do things my way, princess. A little gratitude would be nice.”

“Whoa, whoa, totally appreciate the save!” Rhys ran his free hand through his hair. “Just not used to doing things your way, I guess.”

That seemed to satisfy him, and he reclined on an invisible chair, looking smug.

“Don’t worry, kiddo. You’ll pick it up.  Your pet nerd already has,” said Jack. “Vincent. Vernon. Whatever his name is.”

Rhys didn’t even register the hated nickname. “You _know_ it’s Vaughn. And he’s not my _pet._ ”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” He waved a dismissive hand. “He’s quite the little hellraiser. Wish I could congratulate him personally.”

The almost affectionate tone in Jack’s voice threw him off balance, and he wasn’t sure why. He certainly wasn’t jealous. That would have been ridiculous.

“Y’know, I’ve been dying to ask. Why’d you tell him about me?” said Jack, stroking his chin thoughtfully as he peered down at Rhys. Something gleamed in his eyes beneath the static. “Can’t keep a secret this good?”

“I thought he deserved to know,” he answered, hoping he didn’t sound too defensive. “In case something weird happened. Which it did, shortly afterwards.”

“Would’ve been funnier if you didn’t. Just – boom, throwing a car at Wallethead! But seriously, cupcake. The contents of your pretty little skull are hot property.” Jack’s ghostly finger traced along his jaw, accompanied by a very deliberate raised eyebrow that left him unsure whether to smile or cower away. “You should be more careful.”

Rhys chose to stare straight ahead through the windshield. “I trust him. Vaughn would never betray me,” he said quietly.

A guy was allowed to act a little weird now and then. It didn’t have to mean anything bad.

“Sure,” said Jack. “Except for the time he totally did.”

“Hey, that doesn’t count –”

“Sure, Rhysie. I’m just saying, I trusted a lot of people, and now I’m stuck on the short bus trying to explain life lessons to an idiot.”

“Are you saying I shouldn’t trust you?” he said, half playful, half challenging, and then he cringed internally. Being on the road with a motley crew of con artists and robots was not doing good things for his corporate filter.

His right arm tingled with a little warning buzz.

“I don’t think you have a choice.”


	3. trapped in yearning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's just the three of us, baby.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to be safe, I'm gonna slap a **content warning** on this chapter for sexual assault themes.

Vaughn wondered what day it was when he woke up to the sound of an argument. He’d been expecting one sooner, given the sheer number of people packed into the bucket of scrap that passed for their living quarters – but most surprising of all was the fact that it sounded like Rhys was winning.

He sat up and reached for his glasses, listening for a thread to follow.

“Oh, yeah, we’re just _made_ of money down here on Pandora.” That sounded like Sasha, both in tone and content.

“Come on, it’ll be worth it!” Rhys was using the wheedling voice that usually accompanied midweek party invitations. Vaughn knew it very well. “Or, you know, you could listen to me complain about my back for the rest of the trip.”

“It’s not our fault you’re freakishly tall,” she shot back, but he was pretty sure she was smiling. Rhys had that effect on people.

He stood up in a hurry, ignoring the patterns dancing behind his eyes. “What’d I miss?” he asked, a little too loudly to be casual.

“Your friend Mr. Ten Million Dollars here thinks he’s too good for our humble accommodations.” Fiona made a mock bow complete with a twirl of her hand.

“I just want one night in a real bed,” said Rhys, appealing directly to him now. “Is that too much to ask?”

Vaughn felt his pulse stumble at the sight of that pleading look, and he was forced to glance out the window for a distraction. “I, ah, might still have some money on my card,” he said at last with a small cough.

“If he gets a bed, I get one too,” muttered Fiona. “A _separate_ one.” Her sister snorted with laughter.

Rhys spread his arms wide, the consummate salesman. “Look. We find a town with normal people in it, we bargain, and we have the best sleep of our lives.”

He couldn’t argue with that. Anything to get away from the lumpy couch and be alone with the thoughts he hadn’t quite been able to process. “I’m in,” said Vaughn, and Rhys punched the air.

\---

“So, I have good news and bad news,” said Rhys as he rejoined the group, rubbing his hands together with an awkward grin. “The rooms are _very_ reasonably priced and seventy-five percent guaranteed to be free from bedbugs.”

Fiona crossed her arms, unimpressed. “Out with it.”

“There’s…only two.” He cleared his throat. “A twin and a double.”

“Twin,” she said so quickly that Vaughn thought he might have whiplash. “Sharing with Sash is like trying to dodge a thresher. Sorry, sis,” she added as Sasha poked her tongue out.

A cold, unimpressed voice spoke up. “If anyone needs me, I’ll be in the caravan.” Athena disappeared out the front door before anyone could respond. Fiona looked at the space she’d occupied with something like disappointment.

Then Fiona’s gaze fell on Vaughn, and he didn’t like the way she smirked and raised her eyebrow. “I assume you two don’t mind...sharing?”

He froze. A week ago, he would have shrugged it off with a self-deprecating joke about his height, but now the tip of his tongue brushed involuntarily against the just-healed skin of his lip. “Well, uh…”

“It’s fine,” Rhys piped up, clapping him on the back. “We’ve slept together loads of times.”

Vaughn’s jaw dropped.

“What? No, I meant, like, in college –”

“Oh my God.” He covered his face with his hands, partially to hide the fact he was turning bright red but mostly to avoid the looks from the women as they failed to suppress their giggles. “Please stop talking.”

Fortunately, Fiona’s interest in completely humiliating him couldn’t compete with her eagerness to find out what their precious cash had bought them; she bounded over to the receptionist to demand the keys before returning to take Sasha’s arm.

“Have fun,” she sang in a sickeningly sweet voice before the two of them vanished upstairs.

Rhys was shaking his head, hands on his hips. “She is unbelievable,” he said. “Still, it’ll be nice to spend some time together, right, bro?”

He smiled, one of those heart-stopping, intimate smiles that made it difficult for Vaughn to breathe. God, he’d thought he was over this. Apparently having their lives turned upside down had shaken off the dust.

That and the _fucking_ kiss, which replayed in his head every time he saw his friend’s face.

Rhys went quiet as they entered the room, running a hand through his hair and exhaling heavily. It was nothing like the business-trip luxury they’d once known, but compared to the caravan it was a palace – a huge bed, a bathroom with a door and no hungry wildlife peeking in through the windows.

“Just like the good old days, huh?” he offered as he nudged Vaughn with an elbow. “Two guys on a budget against the world…”

“You’re not helping,” said Vaughn, arms folded defensively. “Let’s just…sleep.”

Rhys looked crestfallen, but he busied himself in fluffing up the pillows, humming a little too loudly as he worked. Vaughn looked at the bed, trying to take the measurements in his mind. It was bigger than anything they’d shared in college; maybe if he kept to his side everything would be safe. Hopefully Rhys had grown out of being a cuddler.

“Warm, huh?” said Rhys, tugging at his collar. “Man, I miss air conditioning.” He draped his tie at the foot of the bed, but his hands stopped halfway down his shirt buttons as his face suddenly shifted into a scowl and he turned to face another wall.

“Jack decide to join us?” said Vaughn dryly. He kicked off his shoes, enjoying the freedom to wriggle his toes without worrying they’d be bitten off by spiderants.

“Ugh. Yep. He’s currently making very predictable jokes.”

He felt sorry for Rhys, stuck with that endless monologue in his head, but at the same time he figured that if Jack was getting his kicks as an incorporeal jerk it might save them both from something worse later on. It didn’t make him feel any better about taking his own shirt off.

Rhys was watching him sideways as he reluctantly rolled up his sleeves and sat on the very edge of the bed. “No glimpse of the legendary abs, then?” he teased.

Vaughn’s breath caught in his throat and he stared back like a deer in headlights. “I – I, uh…”

“Sorry!” said Rhys quickly, clapping a hand to his forehead. “Sorry, that was weird and inappropriate. I’m gonna blame Jack for that one.”

“No, it’s fine,” he muttered, amusement and pride taking the edge off his embarrassment. The corner of his mouth twitched. “Besides, it _is_ warm.”

Before he could think any better of it, he was unbuttoning his shirt and letting it fall from his shoulders, voyeuristic ghost be damned. He winked brazenly at his friend before swinging his legs up onto the bed. Vaughn wasn’t sure where that kind of idiotic courage came from, but the way Rhys’ eyes widened made him feel a lot better about the whole thing.

“Damn, bro. Can’t believe you were hiding those this whole time.”

He shrugged modestly, motioning to the space beside him, and Rhys hopped up onto the mattress with a grin. Finally things were starting to feel normal, despite the various layers of hell they’d descended into; this was the friendship he’d been more than happy to take when there was no chance of anything more, and it was almost like there wasn’t a mad dictator in the room who could be listening in on every word they said. They settled in to lie on their sides, facing each other in amicable silence.

“Is he still watching?” Vaughn asked quietly, as if Jack wouldn’t be able to hear.

“Eh, screw him.” Rhys’ left hand inched forward until the tips of their fingers brushed. Something not completely unpleasant twisted in Vaughn’s stomach. “Rather talk to you anyway.”

“I just need to know you’re okay,” he insisted. “That he’s not…hurting you.”

He wished more than anything that he could tell the truth. That he could warn him. That they weren’t both hostages to a volatile psychopath.   

“It’s okay,” said Rhys with a sigh and a grimace. “I – I’m fine. What about you?”

His head snapped up before he could stop himself, heart skipping a beat. “Huh?” 

“There it is again! You’re worried about something.”

Vaughn met his gentle, concerned gaze, and none of the words that had been running through his head all day made it to his mouth. “Nothing a good night’s sleep won’t fix,” he said, doing his best to force a smile. “Trust me.”

“Heh. Yeah. I plan to get our money’s worth out of this bed.”

Rhys’ oblivious chuckle would kill him one of these days. He closed his eyes against the mental images and let out a long, slow breath. “See you in the morning,” Vaughn murmured, pulling the covers up to his chest as if they were a shield and rolling to face the other way.

Metal fingers brushed against his shoulder for the briefest of moments, gone before he could say anything. “Yeah...night, man.” He knew better than to think he could hear disappointment in Rhys’ voice. Besides, the air was warm and the mattress could almost be mistaken for comfortable and all he had to do was make it through the night…

The muted click of a light switch nudged him out of a dreamless sleep, and he opened one eye to see a familiar blue shirt discarded on top of the blankets, its single sleeve pointing to something that lay in a heap on the floor. Disoriented, he propped himself up on his elbows, looking past the foot of the bed to a dim silhouette and a reflection in the mirror whose glowing eye turned lazily to meet his.

“Rhys?” he whispered uneasily.

“Did I wake you up?” a low voice answered. “Good.”

The figure shifted, striking an exaggerated pose, and Vaughn recognised the blue ink all down one arm. Rhys’ skin glowed in the warm lamplight as both hands traced over his bare chest, the muscles in his back and shoulders moving slowly, hypnotically.

“You know, at first I thought this was a real downgrade, but I’m starting to get what you see in him,” said Jack. “So delicate. So _vulnerable._ ”

Vaughn snapped out of his reverie, guilt only fuelling his anger. “What the hell are you doing?”

“I have to say though, shortcake,” Jack continued as if he hadn’t heard. “Think you’ve got the better ass by far.” As he spoke, he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his briefs, giving them the slightest tug downwards.

“Hey,” Vaughn called out hoarsely. “Don’t do that.”

“Why not?” Jack threw a sultry, careless glance back over his shoulder, half-turning to face him. He had to fight to keep his eyes where they should be. He didn’t dare close them.

“That’s – that’s private. C’mon, Jack.”

There was a predatory sneer on his best friend’s face that didn’t belong there, not even at his Hyperion worst, and Vaughn wanted to run – but he couldn’t leave Rhys. Not like this.

“Maybe you’d like to do the honours?”

Before he could even react, Jack was at the foot of the bed, crawling towards him like a cat to a cornered mouse.

“Make love to me Vaughn, you _stud_ ,” he cooed in a horrible, high-pitched voice. “I _want_ you.”

Vaughn scrambled backwards, only to hit the headboard. “Stop it.”

“What’s wrong, baby?” Jack pouted, fluttering his eyelashes as he reached out to place his metal hand against Vaughn’s chest. “Don’t you love me?”

“Jack...don’t. Don’t do this to Rhys. Please.” His voice shook, chest tight with an unbearable mix of want and revulsion, and Jack pressed a finger to Vaughn’s lips as he slid into his lap. Vaughn didn’t dare move.

“I’m not doing anything to _him_. Doesn’t have to be about him at all,” said Jack, suddenly casual. “God knows I’ve missed having a body. And no offense, but you look like you’ve gone a long time between drinks.”

“You’re such a piece of shit,” he spat.

Jack leaned in close, a dangerous look in his eyes. “Watch your mouth, Tiny. I’ve killed people for less. But if you’d rather have your pretty boy, then...”

His face softened into a shy smile that was so accurate it made Vaughn’s heart ache. “I love you, bro,” he whispered, before softly pressing his lips against Vaughn’s in a gentle, hesitant kiss.

For a moment, frozen in time and space, he believed it; he closed his eyes and let it happen, forgetting everything else. Rhys was there, and the world didn’t matter, and everything was going to be okay. And then Jack just had to go and ruin it, hand skating downwards to paw at Vaughn’s shamefully half-hard dick.

 _Sorry, Rhys,_ he said internally before jabbing two fingers into his Adam’s apple.

As Jack recoiled in pain and shock, gasping, Vaughn shoved him aside and sprang to his feet, bolting for the ensuite and slamming the door behind him. He leaned back against it and shoved the lock into place, breathing deeply, his face in his hands as a tidal wave of emotions caught up with him, threatening to overflow.

Jack was pounding on the door behind him, but the sounds came slower and slower until Vaughn heard him slump to the floor on the other side. Moments later he followed, sliding down onto the tiles with an exhausted sigh.

“God damn it,” growled Jack. “I never thought you of all people would be so difficult.”

“I’d do anything to protect Rhys,” he said back quietly. “And you need him alive. So you can stop this…blackmail.”

“Blackmail is such an ugly word, little guy. Think of it as a bribe. For good behaviour.”

Vaughn could picture the smug smile on his face. His hands curled into fists, and he laughed bitterly. “Fuck you, Jack.”

“When I get myself a _real_ body?” Jack sneered. “You can count on it.”

Vaughn looked around the room, at the cracks in the paint and the mould on the ceiling, and his eyes fell on the bathtub – the perfect length and width for a shitty night’s sleep. He raised an eyebrow, almost amused despite himself. How very rock and roll.

“We’re on the same side for now, sweetcheeks,” said Jack. “But do you really know him as well as you think? When it comes down to it, do you think he’ll choose you?”

In the back of his mind, he saw a vision of Rhys, the newly crowned president of the Hyperion Corporation. Living his dream and answering to nobody – except the hero who’d put him there. That Rhys didn’t need him anymore.

“I don’t know,” he answered at last. “But at least I’ll let him decide for himself.”

There was only silence from the other side of the door, and Vaughn hoped that the walls were thick enough to hide the sound as he dragged in a shuddering breath and started to cry.


	4. take your breath away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The truth will set you free.
> 
> Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this took about fifty edits, but here it is.
> 
> Just in case, **content warning** for canon-typical violence.

“Morning,” Rhys mumbled with a smile as the sun peeked through the blinds. He reached out an arm to the other side of the bed, searching for the warmth of Vaughn’s body, but all he found was a tangle of sheets. Lifting his head a couple of inches, he looked around and saw the closed bathroom door; satisfied, he dragged the other pillow closer, shut his eyes and waited.

It could have been a few minutes or a few hours later when he opened them again, something in his subconscious wondering why it was so silent. Vaughn would never have gone to breakfast without him, would he? He frowned and dragged himself out from his perfectly curated spot under the covers, shuffling across the floor and yawning.

Rhys tapped on the door with two fingers, relieved when he heard movement on the other side.

“Everything okay in there, buddy?” he asked with a little awkward laugh. The only response was a few quiet, hesitant footsteps.

Finally, Vaughn’s voice drifted through. “Rhys? Is that you?”

“Uh, yeah.” He scratched his head. “Who else would it be?”

The lock clicked and the other man pulled the door open a crack, peering nervously up at him. “I dunno. Room service?”

“In the bathroom?”

“Maybe they do that on Pandora,” Vaughn said defensively. He looked like a mess, hair sticking out in every direction and dark circles under his eyes. Rhys pushed the door open further and glanced around, suspicious.

“Exactly how long have you been in here?” he asked. He pouted and rested both hands on his hips, usually a sure-fire way of getting the truth.

“Not that long. A…couple of hours?”

He narrowed his eyes, watching Vaughn steeple his fingers the way he always did when he was anxious.

“It was really warm,” he continued, “and you were snoring, but I didn’t want to wake you up…”

There was a strange, twisting sensation in his stomach as he listened to the lies tumble out one after another. It felt like fear, but not the usual scream-and-run kind that had become almost routine since they touched down in a stolen car. It was something far more insidious.

“Vaughn.” Rhys’ throat was tight as he reached out to cup his best friend’s cheek. “Talk to me. Please.”

To his relief, Vaughn didn’t flinch away, instead placing his own hand on top and smiling weakly as he leaned into Rhys’ palm. “I’m okay, bro. I just…”

“Yeah?” His thumb moved of its own accord, tracing a soft line over the stubble. It made him realise how lonely he’d been, despite the constant company. How much it meant that Vaughn was still there.

“Jack,” he blurted out. “How can you trust him?”

“Whoa, whoa.” Rhys shook his head, stepping back. “ _That’s_ what this is about? What does he have to do with anything?”

“He’s watching everything we do.” His eyes darted around the room until he spotted his shirt; he all but dived for it, pulling it on and fumbling with the buttons. “You don’t even know what he wants, Rhys.”

Right on cue, Jack flickered into existence behind Vaughn to roll his eyes and mime shooting himself. Rhys had to admit he was feeling a little lost, like he’d walked in on the third act of an ECHOnet drama.

“Look, I know he’s done a few…” he began, glancing to one side to avoid the looks from both of them, “ _questionable_ things, but haven’t we all?”

(“Hey!” snapped Jack. He ignored him.)

“He’s a copy made by a crazy guy.” Vaughn grabbed him by both arms, a slightly manic look in his bloodshot eyes. “You have no idea what was on that drive. And now it’s inside your brain!”

Jack threw up his hands. “Oh, well, _that’s_ gratitude for you. Next time I’ll just let him get shot.”

“Ugh, shut up!” groaned Rhys. “Not you,” he added when his best friend made a face like a kicked puppy. He had a point. It had been easy to think of the AI as an unlikely mentor, dropping in to dispense advice, insults and occasional murder, but deep down he was code. And code always had a purpose.

“Just promise me you’ll run some – some diagnostics or something,” pleaded Vaughn.

“Yeah. Yeah, okay. I can do that.” He smiled – reassuringly, he hoped – even as Jack shot him a poisonous glare before vanishing into static.

\---

The sisters grudgingly admitted that the overnight stay hadn’t been a terrible idea. Sasha was in a great mood after the rest, so she took over the driving, her favourite songs blasting over the tinny speakers. Fiona busied herself in patching up her coat as she hummed along, and apart from a few questioning glances over breakfast she’d been kind enough to leave the subject of their sleeping arrangements alone. Vaughn knew he would be forever grateful for that small mercy. He intended to take the events of that night to the grave.

Rhys was leaning against Vaughn’s shoulder where they sat on the couch, legs stretched out on the seat as he pored over something on his holographic screen. He’d been frowning for the last ten minutes. Vaughn glanced at the display now and then, but the convoluted code scrolling past was way beyond his pay grade.

Meanwhile, he tried to look casual as he checked his ECHOnet connection for the hundredth time. The navigation app on his glasses had given up long ago, throwing up an endless expanse of desert and a flashing question mark that mocked him, which he figured was a fair representation of travel on Pandora. He switched over to the messaging protocol again and watched the little circle swirl around without a care in the world. Sighing, he uncrossed his legs to switch sides and waited.

Plan B was going to take a while.

He risked putting an arm around Rhys, drawing comfort from the familiar warmth of his body. It had been easy to say he’d let him go, but now he wasn’t sure if he was even capable of it. As the landscape rolled by, sand giving way to rocks that jutted up angrily from the ground, he wondered if Jack was watching.

A cheerful two-tone beep in his ear grabbed his attention, and he pretended to scratch his temple as he opened the notification.

_Connection re-established._

_Welcome back, <EMPLOYEE_NAME>! _

_Your current standing is: VERY POOR_

_INBOX: Downloading 1 of 2,597 messages…_

“Hey, guys,” Vaughn said suddenly. “Can we stop for a bit? I need to, uh…” He hadn’t actually thought of the end of the sentence, and the silence was damning. Even Rhys joined in on the questioning looks.

“Whatever, dude.” Fiona rolled her eyes and tossed a pencil at Sasha who was still grooving behind the wheel. “Vaughn’s being weird again. Let’s take a break.”

“I didn’t realise he’d stopped,” Sasha called back.

“Ha ha.” He folded his arms awkwardly. Jokes at his expense were fine. Insightful analysis of his behaviour was a potential problem. “Just don’t leave without me. Okay?”

“No promises,” said Fiona.

He hopped down from the caravan and strode across the uneven ground with great purpose, making a beeline for a dilapidated bandit shack and praying nobody was desperate enough to live there. His signal strength was at only twenty percent, dropping to nineteen, but it would be enough. It _had_ to be enough.

Closing his eyes, he dialled Yvette’s private line.

Vaughn wasn’t stupid. He knew Hyperion’s interest in its employees’ lives extended far beyond company time and property, and he was buying them a few hours at most. He just hoped she’d forgive them one day – if any of them survived.

A message flashed up, text appearing in real time. _What the hell?_ He could practically hear it in her vicious whisper. Against all odds, it comforted him.

“Yvette! Is that you?”

 _Can’t talk. Apartment’s being searched._ A pause, then: _You’re still alive?_

“Yeah, it’s complicated,” he said quickly. “Listen, I don’t have a lot of time. Something’s wrong with Rhys. I need you to send me everything you have on his implants.”

_What happened?_

“I…I’m not sure,” he lied. “Some kind of malware. Please, he’s in danger –”

The display flickered and went blank. Cursing under his breath, he tapped the lens as the start-up sequence scrolled by. It was taunting him with its slowness, flashing condescending warnings about data integrity and unexpected disconnections –

He saw the shadow at the edge of his vision a quarter-second before a hand grabbed him by the throat and slammed him against the wall.

“Nice try, kitten. Thinking outside the box. Must be why we hired you.”

The words drifted up from underwater, the pain of the impact seeping through a second later as his senses returned. He watched the stars dancing across his field of view, seeing Rhys’ face in double behind them, his features twisted into a very dangerous grin.

“Jack,” he mumbled. “How…?”

“It was fun when you were just being a dicktease, sweetheart. But you’re starting to get in my way. So let me make this clear.” Jack started to apply a little pressure on his neck. “I don’t need you.”

Vaughn’s hands flew to Jack’s wrist and he tried to wrench it away. The cold metal didn’t budge. He looked up at Jack in horror, seeing his smile widen as he watched the struggle.

“I was willing to forgive that little performance this morning,” he went on. “Someone might have noticed if you disappeared, and I couldn’t take that chance. But now you’ve _really_ pissed me off.”

“Rhys! Can you hear me? Don’t let him –”

Jack tightened his grip, and Vaughn found himself being lifted away from the wall and smashed back into it so hard that fragments of plaster came loose. All the air he had left escaped him in a desperate gasp. Despite the agony shooting through his skull, he felt the backhand across his face a second later; the humiliation of it finally forced the tears from his eyes.

Jack leaned in, and he was no longer smiling. “This is your last _goddamn_ warning, you little shit.”

Vaughn’s vision was growing dark at the edges, his hands slipping down to hang limply by his sides. He looked back at the cold eyes that were boring into his, searching for something just beyond his reach, and his lips moved of their own accord, forming a soundless _Rhys_ …

“Rhys?” He could hear a woman’s voice in the distance, a dim flare of hope. “Vaughn?”

A scowl spread across Jack’s face, but only for a moment. “You want your precious little Rhysie?” He brushed his lips against Vaughn’s stinging cheek, chuckling to himself. “Well, here he is.”

His expression went suddenly blank, his fingers relaxing by a fraction of an inch, and Vaughn sucked in the most wonderful lungful of air he’d ever tasted –

“Where am I?” said a panicked voice. “What’s happening?”

They looked at each other; Rhys let go like he’d been burned, stumbling backwards. “I was in the caravan. I was in the caravan, I blacked out –”

“It’s OK,” Vaughn tried to say, forcing the words out through his aching throat. He reached for his friend, who looked at him in dawning horror. “You’re fine. I’ve got you,” he rasped.

“I hurt you,” whimpered Rhys. “Oh, God.”

Vaughn placed a hand on the other man’s shoulder, trying and failing to pull his shirt collar up over his neck with the other. “It’s nothing, bro, please just keep your voice down –”

“I didn’t mean to do it, I’m sorry, I’m _so sorry –_ ”

He leaned into Rhys’ chest, feeling him shake violently as he pulled him close. “Shhh.”

Fiona’s exasperated voice cut through the air, making him jump as she rounded the corner. “You know, I am way past the point of even asking,” she said, watching them with narrowed eyes and folded arms.

“It’s not what it looks like,” Vaughn insisted, acutely aware of how pathetic he sounded. Rhys was still trembling in his arms, and he pleaded internally that the man would keep quiet.

She jerked her thumb back towards the caravan. “Gortys found a signal. She says we’re only two hours out, so get your shit together.” With that, she was gone, leaving the two of them in a gnawing silence.

“It’s gonna be fine,” Vaughn said quietly as he let go. “I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.”

“Me? What about you?” asked Rhys, gingerly pulling his collar aside, his face crumpling as he looked at the shadows his own hand had left.

With newfound steel in his voice, he looked up. “Tell Jack he’d better watch out.”

“Jack? No, this wasn’t – no way,” said Rhys nervously. “That’s impossible. He wouldn’t do that. He _can’t_ do that.”

“What makes you so sure?” demanded Vaughn, his heart plummeting. He’d been so sure that the bastard had finally gone too far to hide anymore, that he wouldn’t be forced to tell the truth. What would Rhys say, knowing someone he trusted had hidden something so terrible out of stupid, selfish pride?

“You said it yourself. He’s just a program.” Rhys was shaking his head, backing away. “It’s not possible.”

Vaughn was barely able to keep from screaming in his face, pain be damned. “What else could it be?”

“Some kind of glitch. I don’t know! _I don’t know!_ ”

He tried to reach out but the man was gone, sprinting across the rocky ground back to the caravan. “Rhys, wait!” he called after him, but it was too late; he was alone under the bleak Pandoran sky, with an ache in his throat that paled next to the one in his chest.

                                                    


	5. so many times betrayed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Until we meet again.

Predictably, everything had gone to hell. Rhys felt like he should have expected it given his recent run of luck.

One moment he’d been walking through a luminescent jungle, marvelling at the wonders that had been hidden away on such a wasteland of a planet, laughing and joking with a beautiful woman, and then…well, being on the wrong end of a rocket launcher had been only the beginning.

Over and over, he thought of Vaughn, sitting next to him on the back of the truck, begging him to be careful. As if _he_ was the one with a ring of bruises around his neck and a stab wound in his side. As if _he_ was the one out there wandering through the desert alone. Rhys shut his eyes against the images, shoving the guilt and the fear back down until his breathing slowed, forcing himself to remember where he was.

Jack’s office.

There was no sound from the rest of the station except for the muted hum of the life support systems, adding to the feeling of unreality at being in his hero’s office at last – no longer a star-struck intern hoping for a glimpse of the legend, but an honoured personal guest. He fit perfectly in the chair, crossing his legs like he’d seen Jack do a hundred times on the propaganda vids. For the first time, Jack was watching him with an amusement untainted by derision. He’d – _they’d_ done it. They’d made it. He wasn’t going to rush this moment. After everything he’d worked for, to be whisked to the top –

No. He’d _earned_ this.

Rhys turned to the window to gaze upon the scarred surface of the moon. He could fix it all from here. Fiona and Sasha would never believe it, but he could turn their home into a paradise.

“Yeah, that was probably the look on my face first time I sat down here,” said Jack. He was leaning on the chair, one ghostly arm draped over Rhys’ shoulder. “The novelty kinda wears off after a few board meetings, but you can always spice things up with an airlocking.”

His automatic response was an awkward laugh. He knew every Handsome Jack story by heart, but hearing the threat delivered so casually by the man himself was nothing short of unsettling.

“I’m sure that won’t be necessary,” mumbled Rhys.

“Give it time, sweetheart. Lotta knives out there looking for a back to call home.” Jack patted him on the cheek. “And I would _so_ hate for anything to happen to my special boy.”

He felt the heat rise in his face, wondering if the AI could sense it. He swallowed. Program or not, it was under his skin in more ways than one, and he chastised himself inwardly for being such an idiot.

“What will you do?” Rhys asked, looking up at him. “You know, when I…take over.”

“Oh, don’t you worry about that. I’m not going anywhere.” Jack leaned in with a raised eyebrow and a grin. “We’ll be working _very_ closely from now on.”

He thought back to the posters adorning the walls of his old office, of the late nights and the backroom deals with his idol watching over him, and he shivered. Determined to distract himself, he turned and swung his legs up onto the desk with all the confidence he could project.

“Man, I wish Vaughn was here,” he said absently. He’d always imagined his best friend being by his side when he made it to the throne room. Yvette should have been there too, but with a pang of regret he remembered _that_ dream was over.

“It’s always Vaughn with you, isn’t it,” the hologram snapped, his outline flaring. “He’s probably dead. That chair is yours, kiddo. You’re not sharing it.”

Rhys frowned; that was callous, even for Jack. “I thought you liked him.”

He rolled his eyes and waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, I did. Right up ‘til he tried to stop me from helping you. It’s like he doesn’t trust you at all, Rhysie.”

A memory came back, unbidden, of waking up with his fingers dug into flesh.

“I’m sure he had his reasons,” Rhys said uneasily.

“And you – letting that little weasel lie to your face,” Jack went on. “That’s a habit you’re gonna have to break.”

“Vaughn doesn’t lie to me,” he protested, knowing in his very soul that the last week had proved him wrong time and time again.

The corner of Jack’s mouth twitched in a half-grin. “Maybe I know him better than you do.”

“That’s impossible.”

“Is it?”

“You’ve never even talked to him!”

“Sure about that, cupcake?” His low, nasty laugh seemed to reverberate from all directions. “God, you’re stupid.”

Rhys felt his stomach lurch as he stared down the barrel of the memory, more vivid now – watching Vaughn look up at him with terrified eyes, gasping for air –

“You…”

– Vaughn, sleepless, holding a door between them like a shield –

Jack slapped his knee. “Oh, this is – this is just too good. Go on. Ask me why he didn’t tell you!”

Some part of his mind was lucid enough to feel violated at the thought that Jack had been digging deeper in his systems, turning him into a sick ventriloquist act, but the very idea of Vaughn being hurt by his hands pushed him over the edge.

“What did you do to him, you bastard?” Rhys was on his feet, his blood on fire, his heart pounding. _“What did you do?”_

Out of pure instinct he swiped at Jack, growling with frustration as his arm passed straight through the man’s chest.

“Come on now, don’t be like that. I just offered him something he reeeeally wanted.”

He stood facing the smirking hologram, fists clenched and shaking by his sides, only for Jack to slink forward and lean in close. One blue hand hovered along his jaw, suddenly far too intimate.

“You, Rhysie.”

The words were almost a whisper, but they rang like thunder in Rhys’ ears as everything slowed down around him, a chill flooding his veins.

“I…I don’t understand,” he stammered. His mouth was dry, strangely disconnected from his brain as it raced between thoughts, trying to piece them together.

Vaughn’s arm around him as he swam through an ocean of code –

“He would have done _anything_ for you.” Jack’s lips were almost pressed to his ear, the sound coming from inside his head, making him dizzy. “Just for a _taste_.”

– the moment their fingers met across a hotel bed –

“You’re lying,” said Rhys, voice shaking.

“Am I?” he murmured. “Don’t worry, baby, he was a real gentleman about it. If I ever see that little psycho again, I’ll try buying him dinner first.”

Jack stepped back and clapped him on both shoulders, winking. Rhys was almost in a daze, remembering everything with a new and terrible clarity. The willful blindness had deserted him, and he stood defenceless before everything he’d allowed to happen. An invisible, sick weight was crushing his chest as he thought of Vaughn at Jack’s mercy, a mere plaything of a capricious monster, all because of his own ambition…

He had to get back.

“I can’t believe I trusted you.” He stabbed a finger in the hologram’s direction, his voice low and hard despite the rage washing through him. “You are never going to hurt my friends again. Ever.”

“Ah, well, funny story…” The blue form disappeared, re-materialising on the other side of the desk. “I’m gonna need one last favour from you.”

There was a crackle of static behind his eyes and a jolt in his cybernetic arm, and then his right hand was locked around the armrest of Jack’s chair.

“Y’see, I brought you here for a reason, Rhysie.”

A mechanical tendril wormed its way up beside him, the pointed tip with its Hyperion logo glistening like a knife. He fought to get away, twisting his whole body, the chair rattling with the force of it, but he was caught like a rat in a trap.

“And you belong to _me_.”

\---

Helios was coming apart at the seams, veins of flame glowing where the metal split as it receded into the distance.

He’d never known a silence so absolute, surrounded by the airless void without even Jack to taunt him. Rhys buried his face in his hands. He couldn’t bring himself to look at what he’d done, couldn’t watch another escape pod careen wildly off course while remembering everyone left behind –

There was no blaming the adrenaline, no voice in his head that had forced him to do it. He’d killed those people without a second thought, their lives only so much collateral damage.

He screamed. It didn’t drown it out for a second.

Fiona and Sasha had been right to run. They were better than him, and he’d been a fool to ever think otherwise. He just hoped he’d never have to face their judgement.

The surface of Pandora loomed ahead when he finally opened his eyes, the dark and dusty plains growing closer as the atmosphere started to glow around him. The altimeter was swinging around madly; Rhys wondered if he would survive. If he _wanted_ to survive, to live in a world where he’d taken the reins from Jack only to fuck up even more lives.

There was a faint crackle in his ear, the last little bit of his Hyperion training making his hand automatically lift to his ECHO to answer.

 _“Rhys, where are you?”_ A man’s voice filtered through, the panic unmistakeable despite the weak signal. _“What’s going on?”_

Rhys’ throat went tight as he recognised it. “Vaughn?”

_“Oh, thank God – please, please tell me you’re off the station –”_

The connection filled with static before he could answer, a million words tangled on his tongue. Vaughn was out there somewhere, alive – watching the world end with no idea it was all Rhys’ fault. Thinking his life was still worth saving.

“Vaughn, listen to me,” he shouted over the noise. “Can you hear me?”

_“Tell me you’re safe!”_

He took a deep breath. “I’m in an escape pod,” he said, looking helplessly over the shadowed landscape. “I don’t know where it’s gonna land.”

_“Rhys, what happened up there? Where’s –”_

The pod lurched, throwing him forward against the dashboard, and he saw the first warning lights come on as the dials continued to spin.

“Listen to me,” he insisted again, and he prayed the silence that followed was just Vaughn waiting for him to speak. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. I’ve been so fucking stupid.”

_"Stop it, bro."_

Tears welled in his eyes as he forced himself to get the words out. “But you wait for me, okay? I’m coming back. I’m gonna find you.” He broke off, pressing the back of his hand to his mouth, unable to stop the sob that wrenched its way out of his chest.  

_“Rhys, you’re breaking up – please, just tell me a landmark, anything!”_

[Impact in thirty seconds,] warned a cheerful female voice as alarms began to wail.

“I’ll come back to you, I promise.” He tried to fight back his rising hysteria, to say all the things he needed to get out. “And nobody will ever hurt you again.”

 _“I…I have to tell you something,”_ Vaughn said finally, an awful resignation in his voice.

[Impact in ten seconds.]

“You can tell me to my face,” Rhys shot back. “I’ll see you again, I swear.”

A quiet sigh on the line, almost buried beneath the noise.

_“You’d better.”_

[Impact in five seconds.]

“Vaughn,” he whispered, suddenly afraid. “Vaughn, I –”

The pod slammed into the planet’s surface, and everything went black.


	6. nothing stands between us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rest easy, heroes.

Rhys is alive.

Vaughn can’t think of anything else. Not Fiona, though later he realises how much he’s missed her too. Not the gruff, hulking stranger with the oddly familiar shotgun. Definitely not the moustachioed gangster who dragged him out of a runner a few hours ago, and who’s about to get a nasty surprise. It’s all he can do to hold it together just a few more seconds until everyone’s safe, but when Rhys bundles him up in his skinny arms and hoists him into the air with an ecstatic shout, Vaughn loses it.

Fiona good-naturedly lets him bawl into her chest, a privilege he’s sure is rarely afforded, and Rhys joins the hug behind him. He spares a thought for whoever’s behind that glowing eye, watching their ridiculous reunion in inscrutable silence.

He brings them back to the home built from nothing but the sense of responsibility that kept him going, day after day, knowing that whatever had happened on the station was partially his fault. For the first time, he really looks at it – and it’s Rhys’ awe that finally makes him proud of what he’s done.

Vaughn becomes aware that Fiona is watching him watch Rhys, and he wonders what she knows – but he’s fairly sure when she excuses herself to go call Sasha that the look she gives him conveys a certain impatience.

And then, at last, they’re alone.

He finally stops babbling and studies Rhys properly: the dark suit, the golden eye, the way his boyish features have hardened so that even his smile hints at sorrow. Their height difference isn’t what it used to be, the old swagger now more of a grim, determined march. They grind to a halt under a tarp in a secluded corner of the camp, and Rhys takes a deep breath.

“It’s really, really good to see you, bro,” he says quietly.

Something unspoken hangs in the air. Looking into his questioning eyes, Vaughn realises that all the things he once wanted to say have been shoved to the back of his mind for so long that he’s forgotten the words. But he can’t skip the words, not this time.

“You promised you’d come back,” Vaughn says at last, and Rhys’ smile falters. He spreads his arms in supplication.

“I’m here now.”

“Only ‘cause you got dragged in on your ass,” Vaughn replies bitterly. He grits his teeth. In the last few months he’s vacillated between being ready to forgive anything and wanting to scream until his lungs give out. The stranger picked the wrong day to bring his best friend back. “Where _were_ you, Rhys? Why didn’t you _try_?”

When Rhys suddenly looks lost and frightened, he almost regrets it, but he stands his ground and waits. He’s earned the right.

“I couldn’t face you,” says Rhys. “After Jack. After Helios. After…”

He looks down, and it’s only then that Vaughn notices that the arm sticking out from his sleeve is no longer bright Hyperion yellow – and he helped look after the damn thing long enough to know it’s no paint job. The implications are…not good. But before the sympathy can kick in, Rhys says the stupidest thing he’s ever heard.

“I didn’t deserve to see you again.”

“Oh, cut the drama, Rhys!” It feels good to say it out loud at last, after all the years they’ve known each other. “ _Deserving_ has nothing to do with it. Don’t I get a say in this? You think I’ve been all sunshine here?”

He doesn’t mention the nights spent railing at the sky with an empty bottle of moonshine in his hand. He doesn’t elaborate on the nightmares: being lost in an endless desert, finding Rhys’ broken body, Handsome Jack crawling into his bed. He isn’t sure he’s ready to hear how close they came to coming true.

“I _waited_ for you. Just like you told me to. And then _nothing._ ” There’s a lump in his throat. He refuses to let it win. “God, I hoped that you – that you just hated me, and that you really were alive out there –”

And then Rhys does something he doesn’t expect, coming closer and taking his hand.

“Why would I hate you?”

It takes the wind out of him, confuses him, and he’s feeling a million things at once. That kind of forgiveness wasn’t in any of the scripts he’d dreamed up, even the most hopeful ones.

“I dunno, not telling you about the body snatcher was kind of a dick move on my part.” Vaughn finds himself laughing awkwardly, of all things. He wishes it was easier to stay angry at this man.

“You tried,” says Rhys, running a thumb soothingly over his knuckles. “I just didn’t listen.”

“Could’ve tried harder,” he mutters. “I’d probably feel better if you screamed at me.”

“I think I might have already done that back at Atlas. Not sure. Had a pretty high fever at the time.”

Vaughn bites his lip and looks away, unable to imagine that half of the equation. They’ve never been apart for so long before, and having a whole piece of their lives without each other feels wrong somehow. But he’s starting to think, a little vindictively, that maybe Rhys has suffered enough. The air feels a little clearer. He gives his hand a squeeze.

“So…what were you going to tell me?” says Rhys demurely, the ghost of a smile at the corner of his mouth.

He frowns. “Huh?”

“You said there was something you had to tell me,” he continues. “That night, on the ECHO.”

The memory of that night has haunted him constantly, but the specifics never fail to be an extra kick in the guts. Vaughn tries to pull away. “Come on, bro,” he mutters. “You already know. Let’s just…move on.”

“Move on?” Rhys refuses to let go.

He stares off to the side, jaw set. “Look, I don’t need you to feel sorry for me. You’re my friend, Rhys. Things can just be how they always were.”

“Bro, I have _never_ felt sorry for you.” The words are distractingly earnest, and now his other hand is caught. Somehow he doesn’t mind.

“Never…?”

Rhys blinks, shaking his head a little. “Well, unless something bad happened, like – I guess in that sense – what I mean is –” He leans in, rushing to get the words out. “I’ve always thought you were amazing.”

They’re so close now, and Vaughn knows they’re on the edge of something, but for once it feels like they’re equals. Like he’s good enough to be there.

“And I’ve had a _lot_ of time to think about you, and me, and how long we’ve known each other, and everything that’s happened, and that if I ever saw you again, I’d…”

He stops, possibly to think or just because he’s run out of air, but Vaughn is done waiting.

“Rhys?”

“Can I kiss you?” Rhys blurts out. “Um, it doesn’t have to be now. Or ever, if you don’t want to anymore, but I was kind of hoping you did. Am I making sense?”

Vaughn’s heart is racing so fast he thinks he might pass out. This should be a perfect moment – maybe it is, for Rhys. But he already knows how those perfect lips feel against his own, and there’s a creeping sense of dread wrapping itself around the anticipation, making it hard to breathe for all the wrong reasons.

“Prove it’s you,” he whispers. “I need to be sure.”

“Oh God, I’m sorry!” Rhys drops his hands, and he almost wishes he hadn’t said anything – but after a moment, the other man’s face splits into a genuine grin. “Okay. I’ve got it. Remember that year in college when I finished finals the day before you, and I was going to go to that party?”

It’s a good start. He remembers, very well. He nods.

“But you were freaking out, so we stayed in and ordered pizza and I totally forgot I was supposed to be somewhere else. And, uh, we fell asleep together on the couch.”

His eyes widen involuntarily; Rhys wasn’t supposed to know that. Vaughn had woken up disoriented at six in the morning and carefully peeled himself off his sleeping friend before hiding out in the library, acutely conscious of how close they’d been.

“Everyone ended up giving me so much shit for it, but when I saw you all passed out on my chest in the middle of the night…” His cheeks are pink. “I thought, screw ‘em, you know? You’re the only one who matters.”

Vaughn closes the distance that’s left and reaches up to take his face in both hands, pressing their foreheads together, unafraid at last. “Then this is what I wanted to tell you,” he says fiercely. “I love you, Rhys. Always have.”

“I think maybe I have, too,” answers Rhys, offering a nervous smile. “I hope I’m not too late?”

And Vaughn pulls him down that last couple of inches until they’re kissing at last, gentle and sure, and there’s no question that this is the real thing – just the two of them, together at last, feeling whole for the first time since it all began.

Rhys is the first to pull away, his eyes unfocussed. “Wow,” he breathes. “I, uh, should have done that a long time ago.”

“Yeah, you should have,” says Vaughn, but there’s no anger in it, only relief.

“No more secrets?”

“No more secrets,” he promises.

It’s not over by any means. But at long last, it’s a start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all who have followed this story! Many of you know it was never intended to go beyond the first chapter, but I'm grateful to everyone who encouraged me (directly and indirectly) to turn it into a series. It gave me a chance to write a different take on the characters and relationships.
> 
> Psst: read more of the college scene [here](https://reversemousetrap.tumblr.com/post/175428383464/mini-fic-priorities-the-familiar-buzz-of-his)...


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